


does god bless your transsexual heart

by queerfawn



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Author is trans, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Nonbinary Aziraphale (Good Omens), Nonbinary Character, Trans Crowley (Good Omens), Trans Male Character, Transgender, make it a thing folks!!!, there's not a lot of azi/crowley content but they're in love always so it's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 01:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerfawn/pseuds/queerfawn
Summary: He is made unto this Earthly plane in an Earthly body to make some Earthly mischief and his first thought is--“Oh. Oh, well, that’s not quite right.”





	does god bless your transsexual heart

**Author's Note:**

> howdy folks it's been so long since i published anything here i was in musical hell last time that happened. now i'm in good omens hell and up in my feelings about crowley and any character i have feelings about is trans. crowley uses some language that could be considered transphobic but it's nothing Too Bad and really he's just trying to work through his own shit. enjoy??

He is made unto this Earthly plane in an Earthly body to make some Earthly mischief and his first thought is---

“Oh. Oh, well, that’s not quite right.”

As to what ‘not quite right’ means, exactly, is still a mystery. This is all very new after all and he’s only maybe the third or fourth creature to possess a body as such. It is dismissed out of hand; he has a duty to uphold, after all, and the human race won’t make themselves fall. There is much to do and many details of evil to figure out.

Somehow the animalistic form is less strange than the human. It’s simpler, much less to figure out and control. No too-long limbs and eyes that need blinking or else they go all dry and uncomfortable. Yes, this is much easier, but on the second day he catches sight of  _ something _ that makes him want to wear the human skin more comfortably. He’s seen Adam and Eve and they’re pretty enough but this one is neither of them and much prettier. He’s--- and he assumes it’s a he, there doesn't seem to be many more options yet ---looking rather bored and distracted under a stony facade, trying to look intimidating but much too soft in the face to have much luck. The flaming sword, at least, is a nice touch to ward off evil. He slithers away for now and makes note to make this fellow his next subject of mischief.

The original sin is all well and good, though he fails to understand how the punishment fits the crime. God doesn’t seem to be very good at that, though she is supposed to be Fair and Just and he is supposed to be Evil and Cruel. No matter how strongly worded your sign is, you have to be a bit understanding when your creations push the limits and succumb to the charms of the first wily snake they come across. Despite his own thoughts on it all it is said and done and the fellow he has presumed to be an angel is looking worried and notably swordless.

Shedding his skin in favor of arms and legs and wings he comes to stand ( _ a notably difficult task after days spent crawling around on his belly _ ) next to the only remaining inhabitant of Eden and says the first witty thing that comes to mind.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”

* * *

  
  


The demon known as Crawly quickly becomes the demon known as Crowly, to the notable mockery of his peers. Although it seems _ his _ peers have come to consider themselves  _ her _ peers upon meeting him in his earthly form. Once he’s returned to his solitude, face wrinkled in distaste, he thinks back to the feeling of Not Quite Right and notes it has now landed closer to the realm of Not At All Right.

Unable to place a finger on the root of this discomfort he takes to covering his eyes. Perhaps, he thinks, the Not Right feeling is linked with his distaste for hell. Perhaps if he covers his eyes and pretends to be just another particularly bastardly human the knot in his chest will untie itself. ( _ It doesn’t, but at least covering his eyes makes the trappings of his day to day life a little less complex. _ )

Both stuck together performing Blessings and Miracles and Bastardly Deeds on the same planet for the same invariable amount of time, he comes to consider the angel he’d met in the garden a friend. If not a friend, then a colleague or acquaintance at least. He’s kept the name Aziraphale for as long as they’ve known each other but he clings to the virtue of kindness closely enough to do very well about not calling him Crawley. It is a small kindness, one the angel surely thinks little of, but it is more than he has ever received from his own side. They both seem to be outliers and it is no small comfort to Crowley to feel that he is less alone in his strangeness.

They’re both in Rome for the decade and Crowley’s hair is cut short for the first time. He thinks of it as a rejection of the form Hell had originally dealt him, all long limbs and lashes and hair, and it is a comfort even as he is forced to wear the same skin. He and Aziraphale are sharing a bottle of wine in a courtyard, Crowley’s boney ankles kicked up on the table between them, something that had earned a look of disdain from the angel. He’s adopted a notable love for food in the past century or so and any disrespect towards it or objects relating thereof is met with snobbish disdain. This amuses Crowley, so he makes sure to slip it into his docket of Bastardly Deeds for the day whenever the angel comes around. Though, as the centuries slip by, he notices that the angels presence dissuades him from being a Right Bastard unless he’s being a Right Bastard to the angel himself. It made his skull ache to think about too much, so he preferred not to.

“It worries me how many of these Romans worship new gods,” Aziraphale says, halfway through a tangent Crowley had only barely been listening to. Whatever the point of it all is must really have the angel upset, seeing as he’s ringing his fingers together aggressively enough to give them calluses ( _ Crowley thinks about taking one of them in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze, but he blames that on the alcohol and takes another swig _ ). “Of course She is forgiving, but---”

“Aye, that reminds me!” Crowley shouts, much too raucous for the quiet evening, wine spilling on bare skin as he sits up too quickly. “How come you and the other angels aren’t ‘ _ she’s _ ’?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Aziraphale’s confusion indicates that despite the degree to which this line of thought consumed his mind, he had yet to share it with his companion.

“Well,” Crowley began again, considerably more bashful now that his outburst had been proved too hurried. “You’re all made in  _ Her _ image, right?” Here his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, as if referencing God even indirectly could earn him a smiting. “Why aren’t you all called  _ her _ too? Shouldn’t you look more… Ladylike?”

This was an issue that had haunted Crowley for some time now. An issue which seemed to go hand in hand with his Not Right feeling and the fact that he, unlike Aziraphale, did look quite ‘ladylike’, as he’d put it. Once he’d been made in Her image but they’d all been quite a bit more abstract back then, no human bodies and sexes, no pronouns to speak of except for Her own. He didn’t understand why others should call him “she” and “her” if not to make a false comparison of divinity.

“I suppose I’d never considered it,” Aziraphale answered, looking quite a bit more sober than Crowley if not much more puzzled. “Perhaps all of us in Heaven were given unique forms to serve Her in unique ways, and the words just came later. Why do you ask, Crowley?”

The use of his name fills him with a warmth that does not give itself easily to words. Language was such a Human thing, after all, and this felt much more of the Divine than the manmade. “No reason. Just bothers me that my side and most everyone else calls  _ me _ a  _ her _ .”

There is a moment of contemplative silence and Crowley’s eyes find the stars while his mind wanders to the astronomers just beginning to fumble around an understanding of them. They strung theories together with too much hubris to consider they lacked the capability to ever comprehend the vastness of the universe and Heaven. Crowley had known, once, and he held onto that knowledge as something sacred, something Holy he could keep for himself. If his eyes had strayed from the sky he would have seen his companion beginning to consider him as if he himself might still be Holy.

“Well, how about I call you something else.” Aziraphale’s voice breaks the quiet and Crowley snaps back to attention. “What would you prefer?”

The question stuns the demon to silence for a moment. It was one he had not expected to be asked, despite his own line of questioning. There is a wavering caution to his voice when he replies. “He sounds nicest, I think.”

Aziraphale nods with some finality and then offers a smile far too charming to belong to an angels mouth. “Right! It’s settled then. The demon Crowley, a Proper Bastard he is.”

Crowley snorts and sends an elbow flying into his companions ribs. “Thanks, angel,” He says anyways, returning to his contemplation of the stars without noticing the wine drying sticky to his skin or the blue eyes that keep glancing his way.

* * *

Armageddon doesn’t happen and the only people happy about it are all of humanity, Crowley, and Aziraphale. While this did constitute most parties affected, it did, unfortunately, leave two sides hungry for a war they didn’t get and prowling for a place to pin the blame. A certain dead witch had a few words of advice in regards to that, and though Crowley had long been choosing how the rest of the world saw his face, it was a foreign enough concept to Aziraphale that he was able to derive the correct meaning of the prophecy.

In the few moments left outside of the abduction, preparing for the abduction, and adjusting to the strangeness of a new body, Crowley was able to enjoy the novelty of existing in this particular shape. Aziraphale’s body was one that he had long come to love and for this alone he could enjoy the experience, but the absence of breast tissue and the presence of a phallus was something wholly new and exciting.

And so as he was being brought to Heaven in a Heavenly Body that was not his own to start some Heavenly mischief he thinks to himself---

“Oh. Oh this,  _ this _ is right.”

* * *

  
  


The loveseat in Aziraphale’s bookshop they’ve found themselves lounging on is really too small to be comfortably shared, but it doesn’t seem that either of them particularly care. Crowley is mostly on top of Aziraphale, both back in their own bodies, and content to lay with each other for the time being. His glasses are off and he gets to watch in full color as Aziraphale munches on grapes and devours a new novel. Though both of them had rambled about their respective experiences on the highs of adrenaline upon their return, neither had spoken to the strangeness or  _ rightness  _ of being in a new body. Though he’d been content to leave most things unspoken for the last several millennia, things were different now. Circumstances had changed. They and their relationship had changed as well.

“I’ve been thinking, since our whole body switch,” Crolwey began, fingers itching to put on a pair of sunglasses he didn’t have to put up a wall he knew he didn’t need. The impulse he’d trained himself into remained.

“Hm?” Aziraphale hummed in reply. It would take something more interesting to pull his attention away from his reading.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about everything, really, and I think I’m what humans or, our side, I guess, would call transgender.” Thinking this would surely draw some kind of reaction, Crowley was a bit disconcerted when it didn’t. “Aziraphale?”

“Hm? Oh, was I supposed to act surprised?”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley started indignantly, sitting up properly to glare at his angel ( _ and what a nice thought that was.  _ His _ angel rather than  _ the _ angel.). _ “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just that you clearly have been for several millennia now, my dear.” Here he pauses to set aside his book, still looking rather nonplussed. “You just didn’t bother to put a word to it.”

Despite his predisposition towards being argumentative Crowley finds himself floundering for a witty comeback. Aziraphale is right, of course, for all intents and purposes his angel had been treating him as a man since Rome and he’d been stubbornly presenting and acting as one since the beginning, since before gender and it respective presentation was a question. But it still would have been nice to have his official coming out treated with a little more grace.

“Would it be comforting to know I’ve been considering similar questions?” Aziraphale asked, and this brought Crowley out of his pout and into the present. “Your body wasn’t near as foreign as I would’ve thought it would be from our discussions. And did you know that humans don’t have to be men  _ or _ women? It’s really very exciting to read about and I’ve been thinking that there’s no reason angels shouldn’t be the same way. We were created quite a while before all of that stuff, anyway.”

Crowley considered and nodded slowly. It made enough sense and if either of them would go diving headfirst into the complexities of human identities it made sense that it would be Aziraphale and all of his infinite fondness for them. “The angel with no gender and the demon with a different one. Quite a pair, aren’t we?”

“I suppose we are. You know, I heard Pepper telling Adam that we were obviously gay. Do you think not having a particular gender throws a wrench in that?”

Crowley snorts and flops back on top of his angel, shifting easily into a comfortable position with every intention of taking a nap. “Too many questions for today. We can figure it out later.”

As Aziraphale returned to his book and mumbled a reply Crowley didn’t quite catch, his own thoughts turned inward. The feeling of Not Right was there, because it had been there as long as he had been in this body. But beside it was something else, something softer and new. It was comfortable and content and eased the aching knot in his chest.

He wouldn’t be able to name it for a while, but it was the feeling of finally having something Right. Of being loved, of no longer being trapped by the constraints of a side he’d never wanted as his own. Of finally knowing who he was and being able to live in that comfort. This Was Right and this is where he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> i live for validation so y'know if you enjoyed this feel free to drop some kudos or a comment. i lov you have a good day <33


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